When All Light Dies
by theharshlightofday
Summary: Sequel to Slouching Toward Bethlehem. They failed to stop the rise of the Nephilim, and now time is running out. Beset by human and supernatural dangers, how can Lara and Kurtis ever hope to defeat a race older than civilization itself? LCxKT.
1. Prologue

He filmed his children with delight. The youngest splashed about with her water wings, swimming circles around her laughing mother. Angela stood on the edge of the pool and pushed in her unsuspecting brother. George came up for air, smiling evilly at her.

"Watch out!" Andrew said, laughing as he held the camcorder. "George is gonna push _you _in now."

The dripping boy climbed out of the pool and went after his sister.

"Be careful," Andrew was about to say. "It's slippery and you might fall." He was interrupted however, by a massive explosion. He stumbled backwards, and yet he managed to keep a firm grip on the camcorder. The hotel was ablaze. People were screaming and running away in panic. His wife and children had rushed from the pool.

Andrew swung the camera up towards the inferno. Black smoke was pouring from the rooftop.

"Andrew!" his wife screamed, holding baby Chloe in her arms. "We've got to get out of here!"

There was a frantic worry in her voice that overrode his curiosity. For once he was going to listen to her and turn off the camera when something caught his eye in the viewfinder.

"Holy shit…" he murmured.

"Andrew?" she shouted.

He didn't answer. He simply pointed up at the sky.

She turned to see the sight and was struck speechless.

There, framed against the setting sun, were three winged beings, flying away from the blazing hotel.


	2. Home

It was now two hours past midnight. A clap of thunder shook the sky. A flash of lightening seared across the clouds. Throughout it all the rain lashed down with astonishing force.

Upon the edge of a hotel roof, a rusty television aerial rattled worryingly in the wind.

Below in the lobby the television flickered with static. A man behind the desk got up and walked over. He fiddled with the aerial for a moment, then gave up and slammed his fist on the top of the set. The picture returned and settled.

He smiled and returned to his seat, propping his legs upon the desk before him. In this weather business had been slow to say the least, and he had ended up watching CNN for the better part of the evening. Coverage of events around the world did not interest him in the slightest. The newsreader was pretty damn hot.

The current report ended, bringing a smirk to the man's lips. The blonde newsreader reappeared on the screen, her hand to her earpiece.

"_Ladies and gentlemen_," she said, "_This station has just received reports of a disturbance just outside Kayseri, Central Turkey. Several explosions just minutes ago have left buildings ablaze and many people either injured or killed…_" She paused a moment, listening to the voice transmitting through her earpiece. "_Early reports indicate winged beings were sighted in the air at the time of the attacks…_"

The clerk turned down the volume dial on the television as a man and a woman approached the desk. They were both dripping from the storm outside.

"Good evening," he said, swinging his legs off the desk and standing up to meet them, "How can I help you?"

"We'd like a room for the night," the woman supplied, giving him a faint smile. It did not extend to her eyes.

"Sure," He opened up his ledger and picked up a pen. "Name?" he asked.

"Croft," she told him.

He dutifully scrawled the word down in his ledger and then glanced up.

"That'll be 30,000,000 TL for the one night. You'll need to pay in the morning." He walked over to the display of keys behind him and removed a set from its hook.

"Room 12," he said, handing the woman the keys with a polite smile, "Have a good evening."

"Thank you," she replied. She turned to her male companion and without a word they had disappeared down the corridor. To the clerk's eyes they both looked exhausted. The woman was sporting a heavily bruised nose, and her arm bore a nasty-looking cut. He did not get a good look at the man, but it was obvious he was dressed only in a wet and shredded shirt. He shook his head in disapproval; some people were just walking disaster areas.

Simply glad for the business he shrugged, turning up the volume and going back to his television. An on-site report into the attacks was now playing.

Disappointed by the fact the hot newsreader had left the screen he began to absently flick channels.

**XXX**

Kurtis sank heavily onto the edge of the hotel bed, covering his face with his hands. Exhaustion was slowly beginning to creep up on his tortured body. The adrenaline had long faded from his veins.

Lara shut the door with a sigh. With slow steps she came to stand before Kurtis, her face etched with concern.

Kurtis still had his face in his hands. He didn't utter a word.

Lara set the room keys on the end table and tugged her backpack off her shoulders. She walked over and collapsed on the bed beside Kurtis.

For a long time there was silence.

"How did things get this bad?" she asked.

Kurtis shook his head.

"I don't know," he admitted, "I really don't know."

He lifted his face from beneath his hands, dragging a tired hand down his stubble-covered chin.

"God, I need a cigarette," he said.

Lara stared up at the ceiling.

"How did we manage to lose them?" she asked, "We've been accelerating after them for the better part of four hours."

Kurtis shrugged.

"There's no point going any further tonight. We don't even know which direction they're heading anymore, this storm's not letting up and…"

"You're exhausted," Lara offered. Kurtis gave her a nod. "Don't worry; I'm exhausted too."

Kurtis gave her a grateful smile. She returned the gesture. It turned into a concerned frown when she noticed the angry red of his swollen eye.

She crawled the length of the bed, leaned over and opened the door of the minibar. Light poured out from its chrome interior.

Kurtis watched her, clearly confused.

"Lara," he said pointedly, "This is not the time to be drowning your sorrows." Lara gave a small laugh, breaking the tension. After a bit of clattering around she emerged with the ice bucket in her arms. A search through her medkit found her some clean bandages, and she took a handful of ice cubes and wrapped them inside.

Lara pressed the makeshift icepack against Kurtis' eye. He shook his head and dismissed her hand, determined to hold it up to his face himself.

She shook her head in admiration. Stubborn as always.

"How did your eye get so bad?" she asked timidly.

"Me and Gunderson had a little _disagreement_," Kurtis said, wincing at the ice-cold contact against the swelling, "He was kinda pissed because I got away so many times, plus there's a lot of resentment left from the old days."

Lara half-smiled, and then asked: "Why did you assume I was going for the alcohol?"

"Hey, we all have our guilty secrets," he replied.

She laughed.

"I am not an alcoholic!" she said.

Kurtis sniggered.

"See. You're clearly in denial."

Lara threw a roll of bandages at him.

Kurtis simply laughed again.

The atmosphere instantly lightened.

"Let me check your stomach," Lara said after a moment.

Kurtis shifted where he sat. She leant forwards and pushed the shreds of his shirt to one side, revealing his hastily-bandaged midsection.

"You really need to take off your shirt. Or what's left of it anyways."

Kurtis dropped his icepack for a moment. He then tugged his ruined shirt over his head and dropped it onto the bedcovers.

After inspecting his wound Lara decided it was healing nicely. Nevertheless she wrapped a new layer of bandages around his stomach. Her medical supplies were running low.

"Where did you get the tea?" Kurtis asked.

Lara sat back on her haunches and looked at him.

"I was in Egypt and I met a Shaman. She taught me how to make some herbal remedies."

"How come you never used this tea before? When Boaz got me?"

Lara knotted a piece of bandage.

"We were in Prague. The ingredients can only be found in an exotic country. Besides, you were in the hospital. You were being taken care of anyways. I didn't realise the urgency of the situation. Neither of us did."

Her hands fumbled over the last corner of bandage.

"Don't worry," Kurtis told her, "I'm still here. A bit battered but still breathing. I intend to stay that way."

Lara gave him a little smile. She tugged the knot on the last roll of bandage.

"Did you use the tea yourself?" he asked her, "I mean, when Karel found us?"

She drew back and nodded.

"Yes."

Kurtis reached forward and gently pushed up the hem of her shirt. There was no scar or even a mark on her skin. He laid his hand against her stomach and closed his eyes. The horrible scene replayed in his mind.

When he looked up at her there was a question in his eyes.

"Someone found me," she murmured, "After you left. They pulled me out of the water and called an ambulance."

His hands strayed at her waist. The contact sent shivers through her being. Slowly she lifted her hands, and they met and clasped.

"I guess there's nothing else we can do," she said after a moment, "I thought it was all over when I walked out of that arena. Everything just seems to be getting piled against us."

"We're in for the long haul alright," he conceded, "For me this business has been going on since Karel murdered my father. At least the bastard's gonna burn for what he did."

Lara gave a grim smile.

"I remember when Karel turned into you. He was trying to convince me to join him. For a moment I actually believed you had never existed…" She sat in thought for a while. "How was Karel able to shape shift anyways?"

"I'm not sure," Kurtis admitted, "We were never taught that the Nephilim could shape shift. It could have been something he picked up through his dealings with Eckhardt. He was a powerful alchemist after all. I do know that Karel needs a sample of someone's blood to morph into their form. Somehow he got hold of a sample of my father's blood. That's probably why he was able to change into me. I share my father's blood after all." Kurtis paused before going on. "He changed into my father when he tortured me."

Lara listened, horrified.

"They poured alcohol on me, then they set me alight. It burnt down pretty quickly, thank God. Gunderson did most of the dirty work, but Karel got a few punches in. They were all pretty pissed off. One guy got in such a bad blow to my head I blacked out. I don't blame him though. I did cut off his hand."

Perhaps that last comment was meant to be humourous. Maybe it wasn't. In any case neither of them laughed.

"I came around a few minutes later. Then Karel changed into my father." Kurtis' voice held a mixture of anger and disgust. "He stood there, looking like my fucking father. God, I wanted to kill him. I knew it wasn't really Konstantin but…"

"It still hurt," Lara finished.

Kurtis nodded meekly.

"Yeah," he said, frowning, "Yeah. It still hurt."

He didn't continue any further. He just sat still, staring past her. Their hands were clutched so tightly they were shaking.

The room was now deathly quiet.

Lara eased her hand out from their grip and touched the side of his face. An ugly cut still ran across his temple. The blood had long washed away in the rain.

She reached out and kissed him. Slowly and gently her hands trailed along his jaw and ran through his hair. Then for a moment they were both still.

Her hands came to rest upon his shoulders. The motion of his chest was quickening.

She slid her arms down his back. Soon she had found his belt. He continued to nuzzle at her neck as she released the catch and unzipped his pants.

Her breathing became hard. Kurtis began to remove her top. Dressed only in his boxers, he eased her pants from around her hips. She kicked them the rest of the way off.

They stretched out upon the bed with their hands locked above their heads. Lara drew down and trailed kisses on his chest. Her hands came upon his waist. Just peering out from below the bandages was a tattoo. It depicted a pair of holstered pistols with ran below his boxers. A pair of angel wings adorned the handles.

She had noticed it before but had never asked him of its origins. His prodigal attitude suggested to her that he had gotten it during his stint in the Legion. She was sure the Lux Veritatis would not allow such a suggestive marking.

She laid her hands upon his thighs and ran her tongue along the tattoo. Moments later she was removing his boxers.

She worked her way back to his upper body. Whilst kissing his neck she felt him wrap his arms around her back and unclasp her bra. Her thong soon followed.

Then they were both naked, and Kurtis held her in his arms as she kissed every inch of his hot, tortured body. He buried his face against her neck, and for the longest time they simply sat and embraced.

Even when so much had been lost, in each other they found the strength to make it through the night.

**XXX**

_You'd think sex scenes would get easier to write over time, but it's damn hard to get those two to open up… Anyways, thanks for everybody's patience. I hope this was worth the wait. I stole the name of the song 'Home' by 12 Stones for this chapter. And just so you know, I don't own Tomb Raider or any of the characters in this story, just the plot and some OCs._


	3. Power Play

The sound of the television woke Kurtis the next morning. Slowly he pushed himself up onto his elbows, sucking in his breath against the dull ache in his stomach. He lifted a hand to his head. His head wound was gone, and his eye was back to normal. The tea must have healed all of his superficial cuts.

Lara was sat upon the end of the bed with her back to him. She was dressed only in her undergarments; the television remote held in one hand.

"Lara," Kurtis asked sleepily, running a hand through his ruffled hair, "What are you doing?"

"Shhh," she silenced him, turning up the volume on the television.

"_Throughout the night there have been further attacks in and around Kayseri__Central Turkey. Eyewitnesses have reported winged creatures in the skies at the time of these attacks…"_

Kurtis was wide awake in a moment. He pushed himself into a sitting position against the headboard.

"_The latest attack was at 4:32am this morning. Then, strangely enough, the attacks stopped. The supposed 'winged creatures' seen at the scene of every attack have not been reported since."_

A crudely filmed home video of one of the attacks began to play. It showed an explosion rocking a hotel resort. Screams and cries could be heard as the camera panned upwards. It caught a shaky, distorted image of three winged beings flying away into the evening sky.

The news went to a commercial break. Lara lifted the remote and pushed the 'off' button. The picture shrunk to a tiny dot.

"Looks like someone found our Nephilim," Lara sighed, throwing down the remote.

"We're right back where we started though," Kurtis answered, "Without a clue where they are."

"I don't understand why the attacks just stopped," Lara said, sitting sideways upon the bed.

Kurtis shrugged.

"Random destruction. They've been cooped up under the desert for a few millennia. They're just taking out their frustrations on anything and everything."

Lara nodded.

"I suppose," she replied, "At least we know what general direction they went."

"To begin with," Kurtis finished, "They could have changed direction and headed to Antarctica for all we know."

"But if they attack again we can follow them."

"I doubt there is much we can do even if we _do _find them."

"We can't just give up Kurtis," Lara protested, "Things have been pretty hopeless for a while but we've still pulled through."

"I guess…"

He rubbed at his eyes before throwing back the bedcovers.

"I need to shower," he said, staggering off towards the bathroom.

Lara watched him go with a smile on her face.

"You won't be needing these then?" she asked, lifting Kurtis' boxers with her left hand.

His head appeared around the door, grinning stupidly.

"No," he told her, "You keep those."

The bathroom door shut with a soft click.

**XXX**

About midday Lara ventured from the hotel, walking the short distance down the road towards an area of outlet stores. As she passed an electronics store she peered in at the row of televisions playing the news channel. The same piece of home video footage was being played, but, as far she could tell, there had been no further sightings of the Nephilim.

The atmosphere as she entered a clothing store was indifferent. The man behind the desk had the news playing on a small hand-held television. He was convinced the whole thing was a hoax and was obsessively observing the news for signs to prove his theory.

A polite lady with her hair in a tight bun put herself behind the desk. She had otherwise been busy arranging some displays.

"Sorry about this," she said, taking the pile of clothes Lara passed across to her, "I'm afraid my husband is a tad stubborn." She leaned in conspiratorially as Lara paid for her purchases. "He seems convinced that this footage is an elaborate hoax."

"What do you think of it?" Lara asked, genuinely interested.

She shook her head.

"I'm not too sure," she answered, "There's a lot of sick bastards in the world who could have been behind these attacks. I just find it hard to believe that every single eyewitness would lie about seeing those flying creatures."

She handed Lara her purchases in a plastic bag.

"What about you?" the woman asked.

Lara glanced at her and replied with honesty.

"I don't know what to make of it."

**XXX**

Kurtis sat on the bed cross-legged, absently fingering the blades of his Chirguai. He let it hover lazily at about shoulder height, experimentally sending the bladed disc through the air with increased speed.

It performed a swift circuit of the room before coming to rest perfectly in his grip. He let the blades retract and dropped the thing onto the bed.

Whilst with Karel and his men he had been unable to control the Chirguai. Karel had mentioned some kind of mental power which blocked the link between Kurtis and his weapon. Now Kurtis wondered whether the Nephilim held this same power. If so his Chirguai would prove useless against them too.

Why then had the Lux Veritatis passed down these weapons over the ages?

_Evidently, _thought Kurtis bitterly, _None of my ancestors ever came up against a true Nephilim. _

The hotel door creaked open. Lara entered with a smile.

"Hey," she said.

"Hi," he answered, "What's in the bag?"

Lara reached inside and pulled out a number of shirts, some boxers and a jacket. She threw them towards Kurtis, who caught them with ease.

Kurtis looked down at one of the black shirts in his hands.

"For you," Lara said.

He pulled the shirt over his head. It was a perfect fit.

"I thought you wanted me to walk around here shirtless," he teased.

Lara laid out the extra shirts and jacket she had bought for herself, along with the additional bandages and medicine.

"Don't get your hopes up," she said with a smile.

**XXX**

A few hours later Lara was once again sitting on the bed watching the news. She'd paid up for the room that morning but officially they had it for another hour or so. She wanted to get her money's worth. Besides; they still hadn't decided where they were going to go next.

She scrutinised the home video footage again. There was no mistaking the three Nephilim who had risen less than a day ago.

Kurtis stood by the window, smoking a cigarette and examining his Boran X. Lara had gone to the courtesy of buying him a few packs. Due to the situation she hadn't even complained about his smoking inside. He pulled back the chamber and shut it again with a click.

"This wasn't what was meant to happen," Kurtis said, not turning to look at the television screen.

Lara nodded in reassurance.

"I know, but-"

"No you don't understand. I overheard Karel talking," he explained, "The ritual didn't turn out the way he was hoping."

She glanced upwards. "What do you mean?"

"The good news is that the ritual didn't completely work – only the strongest three Nephilim were raised."

"And the bad news?" she asked.

"The bad news is the strongest three Nephilim were raised."

Lara leant back against the bed, resting her hands upon the bedcovers. She frowned.

"So basically, it's hopeless. Even if there are only three Nephilim to deal with, our chances are still slim to none of actually killing them."

"Basically, yeah," Kurtis answered, rubbing the back of his neck. He looked strained, as though he were trying to recall something lost. "We had to stop to rest once when I was with Karel and his men. Karel looked totally drained… I guess the explosion in the Strahov took a lot out of him."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning that the Nephilim can be hurt, they just have a higher threshold of pain. And they recover more quickly."

Lara shook her head. "Karel was not a true Nephilim. He could take human form. Those… things were pure Nephilim. I saw Werner's sketches." Despite herself she shuddered slightly.

Kurtis paced over to the desk and dropped his cigarette in the ashtray, picking up Werner's notebook. He flicked to the back pages and the Nephilim sketches stared straight back up at him.

He closed the book with a snap.

"What are we going to do?" Lara said, breaking the relative silence, "The only weapon capable of killing those things was blown to pieces along with half of the Strahov. Unless we can convince the Nephilim to duel between themselves we've got no chance in hell."

Kurtis was looking at the floor, thinking hard.

"The Periapt Shards are ancient weapons. Knowledge is lost through the years… Perhaps the Shards contained the same power that the Nephilim wield?"

Lara nodded. "Makes sense. The only power capable of killing the Nephilim is their own power. The question is: where did they get that power in the first place?"

"Easy," Kurtis offered, "The angels were messengers of God. The Nephilim have the power of the gods."

Lara threw up her hands. "Great, so basically we go knocking on heavens door and ask to borrow some of God's power for a few hours?"

"The sarcasm really isn't helping Lara."

She gave him a stern look.

"Yes, well your suggestions aren't helping either," she snapped, "Get real, Kurtis."

"I don't see you thinking of anything!" Kurtis shouted back. There was a moment of silence. He sighed, pacing a few steps and running both hands through his already quite tousled hair. "Look," he continued, his voice a lot calmer now, "We can't kill the Nephilim right? Not without their power. Maybe we're going about this all wrong… What were the exact words of the prophecy?"

Lara rummaged about and pulled a slip of paper from her backpack.

"_The blood of the Order will bring forth their race, given as a sacrifice in the very heart of their realm. And they will spill over the Earth, pillaging and burning and destroying, and the sons of Men will cower before them and be afraid. So it is written and so it shall be." _

"'They will spill over the Earth?' I hardly think three Nephilim counts as 'spilling over the Earth'," Kurtis sat down on the edge of the bed. "Only three were raised, meaning that part of the prophecy did not come true. Maybe there's still a chance."

Kurtis stood up again, walking over to the table. Upon it sat Lara's backpack. He began throwing everything into it.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"I'm packing," he replied.

She stood up and folded her arms.

"Whereabouts are we going?"

Kurtis closed Lara's backpack with a snap, turned around and threw it towards her.

"We're going back to Prague," he said, opening the door and stepping out into the hallway.

"Prague? Why?"

The answer drifted from halfway down the corridor.

"We've got the rest of the prophecy to discover."

Lara simply smiled, shook her head and followed Kurtis down the hall, letting the door slide shut behind her.

**XXX**

_Yeah, so there's this little matter of a plot which keeps coming back and biting me in the ass. I still haven't figured out how to connect the middle of this story to the end, but hopefully I'll figure it out sooner rather than later. Thanks to everyone who reviewed, and the kind words regarding the sex scene. Oh, and somehow Kurtis with bedhair managed to slip into this update _•whistles innocently•


	4. Carpe Noctem

She found herself in a service station café just off the freeway, idly flicking through a breakfast menu whilst a waitress poured her a refill of decaf.

"Thank you," she murmured, abandoning her menu. The waitress left, after being assured they weren't yet ready to order. Lara measured out no less than four sugars and stirred them into her coffee, trying to keep her eyes open. She was absolutely exhausted.

She swung her legs under the table and softly kicked Kurtis, who looked like he was about to slump unconscious over his newspaper.

"Remind me again why we're driving back and forth across this continent."

Kurtis didn't even look up.

"I love the outdoors," he muttered.

Lara sipped her coffee in amusement.

Outside the service station cars and trucks sped past on the freeway, merging together into one long industrialized blur. A dark blue pickup truck turned into the exit ramp and chundered into the car park.

Kurtis remained immersed in his newspaper, and Lara was suddenly reminded of her first sighting of him, back at the Café Metro. It was amazing how much their relationship had changed in such a short space of time.

"What?" He had noticed her staring.

"Nothing," she lied, "You just don't seem like the reading type."

He raised an eyebrow.

"Is that a compliment or an insult?"

She smiled. "I'm not sure."

He reached around his newspaper and drunk some of his coffee. She was concerned at how tired he looked.

She watched him silently for another moment.

"Maybe we should stop somewhere tonight," she suggested, "I don't trust you not to fall off that bike in exhaustion."

"I don't really mind," Kurtis answered, "It just means it's gonna take longer to reach Prague."

"We should probably stay for breakfast then decide everything later."

Kurtis grunted non-committally and took another sip of his coffee.

They couldn't just go back to the Archives. Things weren't as simple as that. Luther had wiped his computer system clean, destroyed the hard drives and disappeared, leaving them without the original translation. Lara had no doubt he had fled with his tail between his legs the moment he had heard of Karel's defeat.

At least it was one less person they had to deal with, she had thought. After a lot of discussion they had decided to go back to the Strahov, to find the tablet and make a rubbing of the engravings themselves.

They were back at square one and she knew it. Resigned, she called over the waitress and ordered breakfast for them both.

Lara glanced over at Kurtis' newspaper. Splashed across the pages were photos and articles about the Nephilim, featuring theories and eyewitness accounts. Whilst some were convinced the whole thing was an elaborate hoax, others pointed their fingers at terrorists or extraterrestrials. The latter made Kurtis choke on his coffee in amusement.

He read this out to Lara and she shrugged.

"In a way they are extraterrestrials," she said, "I mean they _do_ come from somewhere beyond the Earth."

Kurtis just shook his head in disbelief.

"I know I'm a demon hunter," he said, "And I've seen some freaky stuff already, but some of these people are nuts." He folded up the newspaper and threw it down on the table. "They've watched _way_ too many sci-fi movies."

The next moment the waitress came over with their food. They ate mainly in silence, both busy with their own thoughts. Lara cast her eyes down and pretended she didn't notice his hands shaking.

When they had finished the waitress took their plates and left the bill.

"How much money have you got left?" Kurtis asked, once the waitress had left.

"Not much," Lara shrugged, "But enough to cover this. How about you?"

"Less than that."

Lara frowned.

"Don't you have any credit cards in your wallet?"

"Yeah, but I've barely got a hundred dollars to scrape together. I made more than a lot in the mercenary business, but somehow managed to piss it all away. I'm not exactly the best financial planner."

Lara smiled. It was ironic how little income Kurtis made, when she had a vast fortune, a huge mansion and a collection of priceless artifacts.

"You know," she said suddenly, "You really need to see Croft Manor when this is all over."

Kurtis smiled.

"I'm looking forward to it."

**XXX**

Constant travel seemed to take their minds off other issues, and so they had made amazing progress by early evening, stopping as little as possible, and only twice then to rest and once to get gas.

Now Lara was sitting behind Kurtis as he drove, with her arms wrapped loosely about his waist. She wasn't too concerned despite their speed: she had had plenty of practice on such vehicles, and her balance was impeccable.

They weaved past a slow-moving Bentley and picked up speed, taking advantage of an empty stretch of road up ahead.

She was glad Kurtis was driving. It gave her some time to think, and she was safe in the knowledge that his thoughts were otherwise occupied.

A road sign loomed out of the darkness: _Prague, 15 miles _

She smiled. They were getting close now. She would be glad for firm ground beneath her and a new challenge to meet. In the last few days she had travelled enough for a lifetime.

Snow began to appear on the landscape on either side of the road. A plough had not yet been through, and Kurtis slowed his speed to compensate for the surface of the road. The wind picked up, and it became very cold. She had planned ahead this time, and was comfortable in her jacket and combats. Her usual shorts were definitely not suited for a typical Prague winter.

Suddenly Kurtis swerved violently to the right side of the road, his tyres screeching in protest. A pickup raced past them, travelling at breakneck speed.

"Stupid bastard," Kurtis muttered, squinting into the vehicle's headlights.

"What was that about?" Lara asked, startled.

Kurtis shook his head.

"I haven't a clue."

Lara watched the vehicle as it raced away, wondering how the driver had ever gotten his license. Travelling so fast on a slippery road was as good as a death wish.

Kurtis gunned the motor and the bike raced forwards, cutting across to the other side of the road onto the approaching exit.

**XXX**

They finally pulled into the outskirts of Prague. It was now late evening, and the landscape of the city was dotted with lights. Since they had been here only a few weeks prior there had been no trouble entering the Czech Republic. Kurtis had all of the appropriate documents, although Lara had a feeling his Green Card was a forgery. She doubted that Kurtis could afford insurance on his bike.

Once again the traffic throughout Prague was heavy, but they weren't encumbered by a car. They made their way quickly across the river, and noticed a sudden decrease in traffic as they entered the Strahov area of the city.

They soon found the reason for this. A police roadblock was set across the road, and when Lara walked over to ask she was informed that the whole of the Strahov area was under police lockdown.

She returned to Kurtis and explained the situation to him. She clambered back on the bike and they drove back a little way, not wanting the police to realise their intentions. Then Kurtis cut a sharp left down a back alley. An unmanned police barrier blocked their way. He let the bike slide to a halt, putting out a foot and stopping its motion. Lara got off as he cut the engine.

"It doesn't look like we're gonna get in," he muttered, "Security's too tight around here. They've got every entrance covered."

Lara leant on the barrier and peered at the towering Strahov complex in the near distance. Last time she had gotten in by the warehouses, but now that entrance would be guarded. Last time….

She turned to Kurtis, who was leaning against the wall with his head cast down.

"Are you okay?" she murmured, stepping over to him.

He nodded absently.

"Yeah," he said, "Just a little tired is all."

She gave him a sad smile.

"Fine," she answered, shoving her hand into his trouser pocket and grabbing his keys, "I'll drive then."

He looked affronted, and just a little amused.

"I'm warning you," he said, smirking, "You should never take a guy's keys like that."

She swung them around her forefinger.

"Whatever happened to ladies first?"

He laughed.

"You're not exactly an ordinary lady," he replied.

"Of course," she said, leaning in and kissing him. When she drew away he realised the keys were once again in his hand.

He looked down at them in amusement.

"Come on," Lara said, stretching a leg over the body of the motorbike, "I know a more discreet route."

Kurtis stood for a moment, his hair blowing in the night breeze. Then he threw up his keys, caught them, and followed her with a smirk.

**XXX**

Light flakes of snow began to fall, whilst the skies above continued to darken. A motorbike pulled abruptly into the deserted square, skidding tyre tracks into the fresh snow.

Lara clambered off the back of the bike and stood, gazing across the square, her braid stirring slightly upon her shoulder. The fountain still stood frozen before her. She searched the buildings and saw a familiar red car standing across from Vasiley's apartment. The roof was covered in a thick coat of snow, and yet she still recognised the vehicle. The sight brought a grim smile to her face. She knew that its owner was long dead.

Lara shook her head, turning back to Kurtis, who had concealed the motorbike down a nearby alley.

"What's up?" he asked, noticing the look in her eyes.

She smiled.

"Déjà vu," she told him, tugging her jacket tighter about her shoulders. The wind was picking up in velocity.

Kurtis stepped forward, his hands in the pockets of his jacket.

"Lead the way," he said.

Lara set off across the square, her boots crunching in the snow. Kurtis followed, dipping his head low against the wind.

They turned right down a nearby alley, lit by a streetlight. A barred gate blocked their way. Beyond Lara could see a dark tunnel. She knew it must lead into the Strahov, since there had been so much security last time she was here. The bars were freezing to the touch, and one was bent at an awkward angle.

"We need an entrance," Lara said, glancing at Kurtis, "Show me some of those powers, if you don't mind."

He raised an eyebrow at the innuendo. Suppressing a smirk, he blasted the gate to the ground with a huge crash of twisted metal.

"Show off," Lara muttered.

Kurtis just folded his arms and smiled. Lara made no move to approach the newly-created entrance.

"You first," she said, looking pointedly at Kurtis.

"And here was me thinking you wanted all of the glory."

Lara folded her arms impatiently.

"You followed me into the Strahov in the first place. You might as well do the dirty work for a change."

Suddenly the Chirguai flew up towards Lara's face and hovered there, teasingly. Kurtis grinned at her from behind its orange glow.

"Who says you're the dirty one?" he asked, a cocky smirk on his face.

He directed the Chirguai back and caught it in his outstretched hand. Then, without a word, he set off through the open tunnel and disappeared into the darkness.

Lara stood, torn between a look of scandalisation and amusement. Then she turned and walked after him, cursing herself for falling in love with the worst possible men.

**XXX**

_I've lost count of how many times I rewrote this chapter, but I'm finally happy with it. That tunnel in the Monstrum Crime Scene always intrigued me, so I thought I should put it to good use. Glad to see everyone liked the sexiness that is Kurtis last chapter. Oh, and thanks for the suggestion Acid. I think I've got everything sorted now :) •hands over boxers to AKKON• I don't mind giving 'em away, when I can keep the real thing... ;)_


	5. Waking Hour

Now that he stood within the chamber, he thought again of the Sanitarium. Before him were the same dull grey walls, the same stench of blood and decay, and the same indeterminable sense of horror.

"Are you sure this is the place? Seems kinda deserted."

She kicked at a broken chair, and sent it skittering across the floor.

"Yes, but it looks like a storm hit the place… an, erm, _underground_ storm."

He smiled, amused, and with a flick of his hand the Chirugai had come to life and spun about the room. The light revealed a huge expanse of floor, decorated with the image of a pentagram.

"This is a symbol of the Nephilim…" she realised, "Karel. He had this place, hidden all along."

"Look at this."

She found Kurtis by the wall, pushing at a low wooden door between the bookcases. Inside there was an office.

Guided by the Chirugai light, she walked over to the desk and set it back on its legs. A tattered folder lay at her feet, and, stooping down, she picked it up and turned the pages.

"_Expelled from heaven the Watchers walked amongst men, and upon the Earth bred a curse, an abomination of shadow. In the darkest recess of every human soul slumbers the shadow of evil. Cast from darkness and formed of night fears, the horror approaches."_

"Uplifting."

"_Denied of the paradise, they were cast beneath the sands, and bound with chains to the rocks. Three escaped their bonds, but wandered blind in the desert. By God's wrath, they were encased in stone, and the Order destroyed two before the last was saved. The Black Alchemist's arts can awaken this creature, but the Obscura Paintings are the key…_ So, there were three Sleepers, not one! And two were destroyed?"

"Pretty much."

"Then all along, the Sleeper was an outcast, and the strongest Nephilim were beneath the desert?"

He took the page from her, and read: _"The Cubiculum Nephili is not the last. The rest of that race lies, waiting, in the city. Only the Sleeper may lead you there, and relate to you the prophecy. There exists a tablet, containing records of this knowledge, but of which it is now lost."_

"Damn. You think these guys would draw us a treasure map or something."

She took the page from him with a smile.

"I doubt there's going to be some hidden passage activated by a candlestick."

Regardless, he began searching the walls.

She laughed, and went back to rifle through another folder.

"Kurtis? Isn't this the symbol of the Lux Veritatis?"

"Yeah it is."

He knelt beside her, and began to flick through page after page of notes.

"There's stuff here I didn't even know myself." He turned to a page full of archaic letters. "Look. I wish I knew what this said."

She unclipped the parchment, and laid it out on the desktop, using the Chirugai as a reading lamp.

"It looks exactly like the writing on the tablet. It must be some kind of Nephilic language… Am I saying that right? Nephilic?"

He smiled, and took back the page she was handing him.

"My Order has never been able to read it."

"Illiterate?"

He smirked.

"You wish. Take a look around why dontcha? I wanna have a read of this."

**XXX**

He turned another page, and found a short entry, scrawled in an obviously hasty manner.

"It is my fondest belief that Karel knew I would find this folder. I am not a festering Lux Veritatis maggot!"

She sniggered, and dropped behind the desk, searching its drawers so he wouldn't see her laughing.

"And since when do _you_ dress like a hooker?"

"Give me that!" She marched over, and snatched the folder from his hands. "Hmm…" She ripped out the offending page, and tossed it to the floor like trash. "He obviously knows nothing about women. No wonder his race was extinct."

Laughing, he watched as she walked back to the desk. A few minutes of searching later however, she had found nothing but torn and soiled pages of research.

"Jesus."

"What's wrong?"

"There are photos in here, of my father. It looks like he was being monitored or something."

He became silent again.

"Kurtis?"

There was no answer. She dropped what she was doing and turned to find him sitting, unmoving; a mass of photos on his lap.

"That is fucking sick."

"Kurtis? What's wrong?"

He backed away on his hands and knees, letting the photographs spill across the floor.

"There are photos here… o-of my father. He's dead. Oh god, he's dead."

He didn't cry, or even tear the photos to pieces. They just lay spilled across his lap, and for a moment he simply sat, staring at nothing.

"Kurtis?"

He scrambled back to his feet, kicking at the photos in disgust. In moments the desk was lying broken on its side, and his hand was shaking as he recovered from the blast. Then the Chirugai ripped free of its restraints and tore across the room, slashing through wood and paper and steel before returning to his hand.

Stumbling back, drained of power, he turned and grabbed the first thing he could find to smash.

"KURTIS!"

She tackled him about the waist, and, dropping the chair, they both ended up on the floor, coughing and wincing from the fall.

"Get the hell off me!"

He pushed at her, but she shoved him away, and fumbled at her waist for the gun.

"Stop it!"

He kicked again, but suddenly her legs were pinning him to the floor and the gun was pointing straight at his head.

"You're not going to shoot me Lara."

"No. But I'll still kick your ass. Calm down!"

"Why the fuck should I? Just look at the damn photographs Lara! My father is lying there with his guts spilled across the floor. It's not exactly a beach shot of Acapulco!" He felt like he was going to throw up.

"I know," Her voice softened. "Please, just calm down. Someone is going to hear you."

He ignored her, and tried to get his elbows up to push her off, but then she clicked back the safety and levelled the gun between eyes.

"Don't make me shoot you," she whispered, feeling the tears starting, "I swear to God I won't let the police find you. You're still a wanted man remember? Don't give anyone an excuse to come looking down here."

He sobered a little.

"You weren't there Lara." His voice broke, and he turned away in shame. "You never saw his face. He was in agony through it all."

She bowed her head, and then lowered the gun with a sigh.

"I'm sorry Kurtis. I know you're hurt, and you have every right to be. Just try and save it for another battle. It's not worth destroying yourself like this."

"Please," he whispered, "Just get off me."

It took a moment, but she clambered off him and let him stand. Without turning back, he had walked out and slammed the door behind him.

The folder still lay open on the floor.

**XXX**

_His eyes were red, and the tears were streaming down his face, but inside there was nothing left, and he just wanted to crawl into a corner and die._

_But above him a roll of thunder shook the sky, and he could see the quiet little street where he had learnt to ride his bike, or the streetlamp by the park where he'd kissed his first girl, or the lonely figure of his father, standing shunted in the moonlight._

_And as soon as they appeared, the memories were gone, and the rain was falling harder than ever. With a scowl, he wiped at his face with his sleeve, and searched in his pockets for the keys to his bike. Soon enough his hand came across the gun._

_Pausing a moment, he let the rain drip down into his eyes, and gently opened the chamber. It closed again with a click._

_By now the doubts were gone, and all he could feel was the gun resting against his mouth, and the soaked fingers which trembled upon the trigger. And if he screwed his eyes hard enough he might block out the pain, but he knew it was going to hurt all the more, and soon the gun was clattering at his feet, and he put his head in his hands and cried until there were no more tears left to fall._

_Above him the rain stopped, and dawn began to lighten the skies. Slowly he got back to his feet, and gathered his things once more, standing a moment, and thinking back to his childhood, and the memories of that very house. A lot of them were bad, but he still managed to smile at the rest._

"_Goodbye dad." _

He was sitting on the steps which led up and out of this place, and although the years had grown heavily upon him, he refused to let himself cry.

"Are you okay?"

She was leant on the doorframe.

"Guess so. What d'ya want?" He didn't sound mad; just tired.

"I found something," she explained, handing him a photograph. "It was inside the folder… I think Karel might have stolen this, from your father."

He took the picture from her, and carefully unfolded it. For years, whenever he had asked questions about his mother, Konstantin had walked over and taken this down from the mantelpiece. Looking now, and seeing his parents so beautiful and full of life… It broke his heart.

"I never knew my mother," he told her, "She died a few months after I was born. My father met her whilst stationed in Europe, but my grandfather wouldn't let them marry. We had to swear to secrecy, and apparently she was not worthy of the Order. In the end they eloped, and came to the States. A few years later she was pregnant with me."

She took this in, silent.

"You have her eyes."

He smiled.

It was a rare moment of peace, and something they would cling to a long time.

Silent, she stood up, and awkwardly brushed the dirt from her trousers.

"We better get going. The warehouses are nearby."

Frowning, he put away the picture, and the Chirugai shot past his shoulder and highlighted something in the darkness.

"What is that?"

There was blood staining the floor.

"If I never see another dead body in my life I will die happy."

It was Luther Rouzic, lying face-down in a pool of his own blood.

She squatted down and put her fingers to his neck.

"He's cold - been dead for days."

"I thought he had skipped town?"

"Apparently not." She touched a hand to his eyes, and gently slid them closed.

For a moment they were both silent.

"How did this happen?"

"Maybe he took something?" She checked his pockets. "Nothing. Whoever killed him must have known about this place, or else he was already here, waiting."

They both looked about, suddenly uneasy, as though something was about to jump from the shadows.

After a minute, she spoke: "There's something on his hand."

It was a symbol like an Egyptian eye, alighted by three points of black, resembling a broken crown.

"Kurtis, do you know what this means?"

He slid down beside her, and traced his fingers over the mark.

"I remember it - from my training. I had to study hundreds of books on the Cabal and the Lux Veritatis. We were at war for centuries. This symbol appeared at every massacre of our Order."

She nodded.

"I recognise it now, from the books I took from the Archives." She searched through her backpack, and pulled out a dusty volume. "Here. The caption says _'The three entombed: Arakiel, Semjâzâ and the most powerful, Azazel.'_"

"The Nephilim."

She rested the book on her lap, and gazed at the image in wonder. "It's no surprise I missed this earlier. Without knowing of the three beforehand, this text could have meant anything."

"And the eye?"

"It has many different meanings," she told him, searching the page, "but the basic translation is '_apocalypse_'."

"Fitting."

She sighed, and watched as he stood again, rubbing at his temples.

"Did your Order know this was going to happen?"

He shrugged.

"I was taught about the Nephilim in the desert, but then my father was always a little sketchy on the details. The prospect frightened him. I think he always knew it was a matter of time before someone got them out."

She nodded, and then stood up beside him, gazing at the blood which now stained her hands. Snow was swirling in on the night breeze.

"Lara?"

There were a dozen policemen staring down at them from the steps, and covering their mouths at the stench of blood.

"Oh no."

**XXX**

_Umm yeah, so my muse decided to go on an extended vacation, and when she did get back she had severe jet lag for a couple of weeks… I hope you appreciate that this chapter gave me hell to write, but I finally wrestled a decent outcome from my muse's scrawny hands! And I also sorted out a plot hole which was really annoying me. Enjoy!_


	6. Discoveries

He wasn't one of those people who stood rigid at the sight of death, and nor was he a coward. Let's just say he had gotten used to it by now. So as he watched the dozen or so men descend the steps, rifles in tow, he stood impassive, hands in his pockets, and stared down at the floor.

He'd seen enough murder to last him a lifetime.

Someone spoke, but he couldn't understand a word. Then he stepped forwards a little, into the relative light, and they saw his clothing. Definitely American. They tried English.

"Who are you people?"

The guy at the lead was obviously the head of this group. The way he stood, the way he spoke with that holier-than-thou demeanour. He had no doubt this guy took action and asked questions later, if he asked them at all.

"We're the cleaners," Kurtis offered, with just a hint of malice.

He laughed.

"Whoever the hell you are, you've just been found at the scene of a murder." He gestured to the men behind him. "Check the body, and don't let them out of your sight."

It was hard not to laugh at the guy.

"He's cold," he told them, "Been dead for days. Or did you think we'd stick the guy and then hang around, hoping to get caught?

The guy smiled.

"There's no counting on some people's intelligence. Or the lack thereof."

Kurtis would've lunged at him, but was stopped by Lara's hand on his arm.

Some men broke off to study the body, whilst a few hung back to make sure they didn't try anything stupid. The leader – whose name they found out was Lacina – disappeared for a moment, presumably to check the hidden office they had found earlier. When he returned, there was a look of disgust on his face.

"Whoever did this is a complete sicko," he muttered, running a hand through his greying hair. He looked over at Kurtis a moment, then spoke with another officer, who took some men and went back into the office to collect evidence.

Kurtis sighed.

"What do you guys want? We'll give you a statement about the body, but then we're out of here. Got places to go."

He made as if to leave, but was stopped in his tracks by their rifles.

"Yeah," said the guy, in that same patronising tone, "I didn't get my job by letting people stroll out on a murder scene."

Kurtis just laughed, and folded his arms across his chest.

"Did your men even search this place? Did you look at the security tapes? Eckhardt, Karel… those were your killers, not Lara. Not us."

Amused, the guy unfolded the poster that he held.

"And I suppose you were at the hospital massacre for a check-up?"

"Stabbing actually. But thanks for asking."

He laughed without mirth.

"Forgive me if I don't care. You've now been found at the scene of two murders. And I don't think it's a coincidence."

"Hey," said Kurtis, "I was the damn one getting _shot at_ before. You're the police. You should've been there to stop it."

They both glared at each other. It was like watching a car wreck. You knew no good would come from it, and yet it was too hard to look away.

"Kurtis," muttered Lara, "Don't give them an excuse." She touched his arm. Lacina watched this exchange and smiled.

"Listen to your girlfriend," he said, "She sees reason."

"Shut the hell up," spat Kurtis. Lacina didn't answer; just barked an order in Czech. Someone grabbed Lara by the arm, and another did the same for Kurtis. He immediately jerked away.

"Get the hell off me," he spat. There was a glow framing his features, and suddenly the Chirugai was in his hand, its blades quivering with menace. "First one who tries gets their throat ripped out."

A few of them stepped back, and he smiled a little.

"What? You don't like it when your prey fights back?"

Even Lacina seemed frightened.

"I don't suppose you'll mind if we step outside then? The atmosphere is getting a tad hostile in here."

With a growl, Lacina grabbed a rifle from one of his men and pointed it right at Kurtis' head.

"Drop that thing and get on your fucking knees."

Kurtis just grinned.

"I would, but the thing's got a mind of its own."

As if in answer, the disc began to glow in his hand.

Lara hissed in his ear: "You don't want to be using that thing. They aren't exactly fans of the occult."

Sensing her reason, he let the blades retract. Lacina didn't even lower his rifle.

"Disarm them."

After a quick body search, in which they recovered his Boran X and his Chirugai – much to their fascination and confusion – they cuffed him and began to him haul off, whilst another policeman approached Lara in a bid to search her. She wasn't too happy with the arrangement, and showed the guy as only a woman could.

In response, they pointed their rifles at her chest.

"Lara," he said wearily, "Just leave it alone."

"But Kurtis-"

"It's not worth it."

She sighed. "Fine then, but if anyone touches the plait they're dead."

With a show of mock surrender, she raised her hands. They came forward and took her pistols, whilst one guy got onto his knees and ran his hands down her legs to check there was nothing there.

She had to resist the urge to kick _him_ in the groin.

Next second someone came behind her, and cuffed her hands with unnecessary force. She just stood there, glaring at Mr. Superiority Complex.

"You don't know what you're messing with."

He gave her a patronising smile, and began to read them both their rights.

**XXX**

Lacina had stayed behind to secure the crime scene. Now they were being taken to the station in a battered squad car by two heavily armed guys who refused to speak a word of English, even though it was obvious they could.

Sometimes they exchanged light banter in Czech, and from their tone Lara could tell they were amused. She longed to kick them both in the head, but she was cramped up in the back seat, and nothing good could come from such an exchange at any rate.

"Listen," she said, keeping her voice low, "I've still got that knife in my boot. Do you think you could reach it and get these cuffs off?"

The squad car passed over a speed bump, jolting them in their seats. When the guys in the front turned to check on them, she pretended to be looking at the floor.

"What knife?"

"I've had it since Turkey," she said, "You know, the one I stabbed Karel with."

"Oh." He remembered perfectly well.

"I slipped it back into my boot when I went to get my guns. They didn't find it when they searched me." She shifted a little, so her legs were nearer to his. "Just try and make it look casual."

"Casual. Right." He laughed, and stretched his hands as far as they would go. "Just don't use this as an excuse to stare at my ass Croft."

She smiled. "Would I ever do such a thing?"

He raised an eyebrow in amusement. She rolled her eyes.

"How did I guess that me, you and a pair of handcuffs would cause so much bother?"

He had to resist the urge to snigger.

In the front of the car, the radio suddenly blared to life. The guy who wasn't driving picked up the receiver and started speaking in rapid Czech.

"What are they saying?" she whispered.

"What makes you think I speak Czech?"

"What makes you think _I_ do?"

Some more radio banter, and then the car suddenly swerved and took a hard right. The knife slipped and fell from his hands, promptly sliding underneath the seat.

"Oops."

She just rolled her eyes.

"What's going on?"

"We got a Code 33."

She sat back in her seat. "What does that mean?"

"An officer needs emergency assistance."

**XXX**

Ten minutes later, they had stopped outside a liquor store, which was reduced to nothing more than a heap of burning rubble. A police blockade was already in place, but no-one seemed to be doing much of anything. A handful of people were huddled in blankets across the street, giving their statements or sipping on coffee, but generally, it looked like the aftermath of an earthquake.

Another officer approached the car, and the men got out, leaving Lara and Kurtis in the back seat. The sounds of crackling flames could be heard upon the breeze.

"Looks like we found our Nephilim after all."

**XXX**

After a bit of coercion, the officers let Lara and Kurtis stand outside of the car. It was stifling hot inside, and they didn't want any more deaths on their watch. One guy stood there and kept an eye on them, but he was new, and they soon realised he couldn't speak English. This left them free to talk.

"I don't understand," said Lara, "They escaped and started destroying things, and then they disappeared. Why show their faces again?"

Kurtis shook his head.

"They must have been out there all along, killing and burning everything they could find. Last time they were seen was Turkey, but then they headed west, and I'm guessing some of the towns they met along the way were so remote that news couldn't get out about it until now. Some places, there probably weren't any survivors."

They both watched as a group of men brought out a woman upon a gurney. Too incoherent to scream, she simply moaned in pain, and tried to reach out for her children, who sat, huddled in blankets, crying nearby.

She was quickly hurried into an ambulance. Moments later the vehicle pulled away, its siren blazing, and disappeared into the night. Lara looked on in misery.

"I could have stopped it Kurtis. There was still time."

He shook his head.

"This wasn't your fault. There's still the damn prophecy remember?"

"I suppose." Her hair stirred upon the breeze. "I just wish there was something we could do. I hate standing here, helpless like this."

Kurtis shrugged.

"Look on the bright side. We might be up for parole in another couple of decades."

She glared at him.

"Not funny Kurtis."

Yet another gurney went by. She shivered a little. Presently, the two police officers escorting them had returned.

"Is there anything we can do to help?" Lara asked.

The taller of the two just frowned.

"You can start by getting back inside the car." He grabbed her arm, and steered her away from the wreckage. She threw a helpless look back at Kurtis, who just shrugged.

"Do you know what happened here?" she asked, playing dumb. The guy leant upon the hood a moment, and then he sighed. "We've had our hands pretty full the last few days; deaths, explosions, conspiracy theories to match the likes of JFK… I haven't slept in about two days. So you'll forgive me if I leave your questions until we get back to the station."

"Not at all," she said, with a slight smile.

The guy tapped a hand on the hood, and then slammed the door shut. Ten minutes later, they had reached the station.

**XXX**

_Five months? It can't have been that long since I last updated could it? _•ducks flying objects•_ Y'know it's not my fault. It really isn't. It's this pesky muse of mine. She refuses to let me write one decent scrap for about three months, and then decides she wants to delve into the Lord of the Rings fandom instead. Anyways, I finally tempted her with sexy angry Kurtis and she came crawling back for more XD Ooh yeah, and that police code is actually from California handbooks, cause, believe it or not, it is kinda hard to find Czech police codes :p _


	7. Ruin

"…_this is the latest in a series of horrifying attacks. Flying creatures, branded by many as 'angels', have been seen in remote areas of Turkey and now Western Europe, leaving a trail of death and devastation in their wake._

_The question everyone is now asking: are the End Times really upon us?"_

"What in the heck are you watching?"

"CNN."

"…_our eschatology speaks of Satan and his angels being hurled down to the earth. I think what we are seeing with these attacks is the first of nine stages of the End Times, although we prefer not to use such an overdramatic term…"_

Cervenka leant on the guy's chair a moment, listening, and then he shook his head.

"What sensationalist drivel."

"Is not."

"Whatever," he growled.

"Is not."

He just rolled his eyes.

"Never mind. Now, turn that dammed thing off and get back to work, will you?" He took a sip of his drink, and then spat it back up in distaste. "And when was the last time you cleaned out the coffee machine?"

A gust of cold air filled the lobby. They both looked up, and saw a patrol car parked outside. A man and a woman were being brought in, and they didn't look too happy.

"The coffee machine can wait; hot babe at 12 o' clock."

"How can you tell she's your type?"

"She's breathing, ain't she?"

Cervenka sighed, took another sip of his coffee, and then decided that it was definitely not worth it and poured the rest into a nearby plant pot. He hated these American interns. They were always the same. For the first few days, they'd follow their superiors around like an obedient dog, filing papers and chauffeuring coffee like it was their God-given duty. After about a week, however, the cracks would start appearing. A few missed reports here and there, a few late mornings, and within a month they were to be found, feet up, ears closed, often absorbed in the television or flinging projectile rubber bands across the office.

A select few were also complete pricks when it came to women.

Eyebrows raised, he watched his intern jump up, swing his legs across the counter and lean forwards, grinning like an idiot.

"Hey," he said, "I'm Toby. What're you in for?"

"Triple homicide," she said, without breaking her stride.

"Well, maybe I can get your sentence reduced?" He pushed himself off the counter, and stood in front of her, blocking the way. "I'm sure it was just a misunderstanding."

She stopped, and gave him a smile.

"I'm not interested. And if you don't stop looking at my cleavage, I am going to completely devastate your chances of ever bringing children into this world."

His face fell. Cervenka elbowed him in the gut as the two detainees were led past, and started laughing like crazy.

"I guess she's not your type then." He pressed his empty coffee mug into the guy's limply outstretched hand. "Do me a favour. Fix the coffee machine, will you? Thanks."

**XXX**

"_I am bored. I am a tool. I am a bored tool. I hate my job. I hate my boss. I hate you. I couldn't give a damn whether you really did kill anybody; I just want to go outside and have my smoke."_

Glasses perched upon his nose, with a shadow of stubble along his jaw, their arresting officer was hardly being subtle. And as his pen hovered expectantly above a pile of forms, Lara could not help but imagine such dialogue for the guy; his true feelings towards his duty were written all over his face, not to mention the huge bulge in his pocket where his cigarettes must be.

"Name?"

"Hmm?"

She paused, blinking. This guy didn't recognize her?

Kurtis spoke up: "She's the friggin' Queen of Sheba." The guy looked up from his papers, one eyebrow raised, to where Kurtis was stood, his arms leant back against the desk as though he owned the place (despite the fact that his wrists were still handcuffed together in front of him).

"Look, does it really matter? This whole thing is a joke anyways."

A laugh.

"Yeah, right. Nice try. You don't need to give me your names, but things would run a lot more smoothly if you did. I'd have much less paperwork to do for a start."

Kurtis gave a wicked smirk.

"Well, we'd hate to deprive you of that pleasure, wouldn't we?" He shook his head. "We're nobody. You can leave the names part blank."

The guy seethed, pushed the form out of the way, and called over another officer. Then he recited a speech about their rights, the confiscation of their effects, and left them standing there, comatose with boredom, as the new guy began to essentially repeat what they had just been told, albeit in an excruciatingly more pedantic tone of voice (if that was possible).

Kurtis, for his part, was patient for once. It was Lara who snapped this time around: "How long is this going to take?" she asked, scowling, "I have some rather pressing business to attend to if you don't mind."

The new guy shrugged.

"Longer than usual. As you can see, we're a little busy around here."

She sighed, and glanced around, distracted. He was certainly right: the tiny station was heavily undermanned, and with the media frenzy that had built around the Strahov case, the police force was being stretched to its limits. Add to that the sudden, inexplicable Nephilim attacks, and the place was in complete chaos.

Their arresting officer returned, and dropped a stack of papers onto the desk.

"You know that prisoner they brought in earlier? From the Strahov? Well, these are the forms you've got to fill in for him."

"What?"

The guy abandoned Lara and Kurtis' papers for a second, and began rummaging through this fresh batch.

"Oh, please… what is this? Medical forms…? Mental illness wavers…?"

"Hey, the guy is a nut job, go figure."

Lara couldn't hold her tongue any longer, and once their arresting officer had left she said: "You took a prisoner from the Strahov?"

"Yeah." He shrugged, but didn't look up from his paperwork. "I wouldn't mind if it was just some old guard who fell asleep at his post, but he's a total nutcase. They found him in some kind of mental asylum, down in the lower levels."

She felt Kurtis tense beside her, but he did not speak, and she got the feeling that she should not pursue the subject further.

Presently, the guy pushed away any further forms and brought over their effects, then began to rummage through Lara's backpack, much to her annoyance.

He found a number of books.

"Taken from the Strahov Archives, I believe…hmm… is the ink running a little on this one?"

"Probably," said Lara, glancing away a little with what might have been shame, "It did become submerged in a lake at one point."

"Excuse me?" He shook his head. "No, actually, I don't think I want to know."

Something caught Lara's eye as he moved onto her guns: there was a set of keys sitting on the far end of the counter, just beside a stack of forms. She kicked Kurtis in the leg and directed his attention to this, but nothing could be done at the moment: they were right under the officer's nose.

"…one book, filled with archaeological notes. Looks to be some kind of field journal…" Lara froze. If he flicked to the back and saw the Nephilim sketches, they were going to be dragged into a lot more trouble. Thankfully though, he put the book down and pulled out something else instead: a handful of coins, followed by a few notes and some other harmless paraphernalia.

He then put the backpack and its contents to the side, and picked up the Chirugai, studying it with a mixture of horror and confusion. The blades suddenly snapped out, and he dropped it with a gasp.

Kurtis suppressed a smirk. Lara fought the urge to laugh, despite herself.

"One glaive, perhaps occultist in origin." He picked up the gun next. "Modified revolver. Of inferior design." Kurtis seethed. "It looks like there's a name scratched on here… _A-L-I-C-E…'Alice'?_" He looked up, one eyebrow raised.

"Oh please," said Kurtis, "Like you've never named your gun before."

Lara spoke up, slightly bristled: "Who's Alice?"

"Relax. I named it after the band."

"This appears to be a license for the gun." The guy pulled a rather dog-eared card out of Kurtis' wallet, and inspected it closely. "Genuine, though badly worn."

There was a pause, as everything was noted down. Then he looked up, sighing in that really patronising way, and said: "And if you'd like to come along with me…"

A second later, Kurtis' Chirugai had lifted off the counter behind him, whirring menacingly close to his jugular vein.

"Put that down," Lara hissed.

Kurtis smirked.

The guy felt a breeze at his neck, and promptly turned around. The Chirugai swung lazily in the air, so that it was hovering just behind his head.

He turned and looked at the two. Lara could barely conceal her laughter.

"What?" he cried, "What is so funny?"

Lara sniggered, as the Chirugai started doing loops around the guy's head.

"It's nothing," she said, "I just remembered an amusing anecdote I heard in the newspaper." The Chirugai did one last circuit, and then clattered back onto the counter. The guy whirled around to look at it, and Kurtis took the opportunity to snatch the keys off the counter and stash them in his pocket.

Lara put on her best smile, as the guy turned around again with an accusatory stare.

"Now, about that cell?"

**XXX**

The keys were useless in the cell lock – Kurtis had checked innumerable times to make sure of that – but since they had taken them from someone in charge of their effects, it was a good bet they would open the evidence room, and help them get back their weapons when the time was right.

For now though, they had to find some way to get out of this mess.

"I have a feeling the British tabloids are going to have a field day once they find out about this."

Kurtis stopped, laughed a little, and then turned his head with a grin: "So what else is new?"

They had been locked in this tiny cell for fifteen minutes now, and he had spent the last ten obsessively checking for any defects in the bars. She wasn't sure why: he could have just blasted them down with his powers anyways, but in the end she sat back, smiling in amusement, and chalked the whole spectacle down to a case of simple male bravado. Even helpless as he was, he still wanted to come across as the rebel.

Eventually he gave up, and slumped back onto the bench beside her, leaning back and staring at the ceiling. There was a silence for a while.

The thought of his psychic powers gave her an idea: "Can't you-?"

"Use my farsee?" He shook his head. "Not a chance. There's too many people around, and if I'm disturbed with my mind halfway down the corridor, it tends to hurt like hell when it gets slammed back into my head." He looked up. "Never mind. I can do it later: the bitch is back."

"What?"

He shook his head, and walked over to the lean against the bars. She couldn't see who he was talking to at first, but then he stepped back a little, and gave a derisive smile.

"Still working the night shift, huh?"

Lacina smiled.

"Hello to you too." Then he noticed Lara rising from her seat in the corner of the cell, and he frowned. "Why is she in here with you?"

"I don't know," Kurtis said, smiling, "Perhaps you'd like to ask your guy about it." He gestured down the hall with an arrogant flick of his wrist.

Lacina stood a moment, scowling, and then he left to discipline his staff. The sound of yelling could soon be heard drifting down the corridor.

"Kurtis?"

"Yeah?"

Lara came to stand by him, her arms folded.

"Why are you antagonizing him?"

Kurtis shrugged, and turned to lean on the bars again, his head bowed a little as he laughed.

"'Cause it's fun." She raised an eyebrow. "Besides, it's not my fault the guy's an arrogant jerk."

"And your testosterone-laden dialogue will help us, how?" He sighed, but didn't answer. "Just take this all a little more seriously, please. I've been branded as the Monstrum and chased halfway across Europe. So what's your excuse?"

He pushed himself off the bars.

"How do you mean?"

"Well, you were about ready to rip someone's head off back there. Back at the Strahov, I mean. Why do you hate the police so much?"

"Oh, that." He shifted a little. "Well, I had a few run-ins with them in the past." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Plus, I kinda dated a cop a few years back."

"You did?" She was surprised.

"Yeah, as you can tell it didn't end well. Or begin well. Or… well, you kinda get the picture."

She was silent for a moment, mulling this over. But before she could ask any further questions, Lacina had returned, and he did not look to be in the mood for any more discussions: "Once I'm finished with this 'angel' business," he hissed, "I'll be back to deal with you, and I promise you, by tomorrow morning your names will be plastered all over the newspapers. There's no way they're not going to convict you."

"And with what proof?"

"Proof?" He laughed a little. "You were already accused of being the Monstrum before. As far as the public is concerned, that's all the proof they'll need."

Kurtis immediately bit back a retort, but Lara just sat there, silent, her head bowed. So he had recognized her. She knew that the guy was right, and that, barring a miracle, there was no way in hell they were going to get out of this.

Lacina turned to go, but then he stopped, cocking his head to the side a little, and muttered: "What is that?"

Lara looked up, confused. She was just about to say something when she registered the noise too. It was a strange whirring sound, like someone had turned on an extractor fan.

Kurtis, who had been standing in front of Lacina, turned around, gestured Lara to slide out of the way and climbed up onto the bench. The barred window above him afforded a view of the industrial landscape of this part of the city, but not a lot else.

He must have seen something, however, because he suddenly turned, his eyes blazing, and said: "Get down."

She stood up.

"What is it?"

He shook his head.

"JUST GET DOWN!"

And he grabbed her arm, took one last look out of the window and half pulled, half pushed her under the bench.

Silence reigned for a moment, and then the side of their cell exploded.

**XXX**

_Yes, yes, I know. Nine months _•shifty eyes•_ It's an awfully long time to wait for an update, and I'll be pleasantly surprised if people still remember this fic, but… Chalk it up to a lack of inspiration, lack of time and lack of expertise. I guess this was just one of those extremely annoying and awkward chapters that has some pretty pivotal plot points to get across. And I still don't know if it makes sense or not. But I got it done in the end, and I promise it won't take as long for me to update next time. I'm really looking forward to writing the later chapters of this fic, since I have a few neat tricks up my sleeve. Ah yes, and to all those patiently •_achem_• awaiting the rest of Karma, it is forthcoming too, I promise._

_Oh, and thanks muchly to Rolemodel and Acid for their help when I was pulling my hair out with this _•huggles•


	8. Salvage

After what seemed like an eternity, the sprinklers struggled into life.

It was a useless gesture really, as the fires had already begun to peter out amidst the rubble, but at the least it served to rouse a senseless Lara from her dreams.

She put a hand to her head; Kurtis was stirring beside her.

"What happened?" she asked.

He groaned a little, and pushed himself up onto his knees; the bench under which they once sheltered had been reduced to a pile of broken slats. Somehow, he found the strength to push them away and haul himself to his feet.

"I don't know what it was," he said, "But I threw up a mental shield and deflected most of its attack." He put a hand to his head. "It was some pretty powerful shit, I tell ya."

As if to demonstrate this power, there was suddenly a piercing shriek from above. They both looked up in horror, and saw the familiar shapes of the Nephilim, their dark wings tinged red against the industrial twilight. One last fireball exploded through the ceiling, raining sparks down upon their heads, and then with a fell swoop of their wings they were gone.

In the silence that followed, Kurtis helped Lara to her feet.

The station was completely destroyed. What had once been the lobby was now reduced to a pile of rubble and standing walls, marked only by the dull smoking of small fires. They both stepped carefully through this wreckage, searching vainly for any survivors, but it was no use; everybody was long dead.

"Kurtis?"

She had heard something; a weak groan from amidst the rubble. Kurtis struggled over, and helped her to haul the mass of twisted metal from atop the man's chest.

It was Lacina. And, judging by the state of his lower half, he wasn't going to live for very much longer; his legs had been crushed by the bars of their cell.

Lara hurried over and dropped to her knees, attempting to apply some pressure to stop the bleeding, but it was a hopeless gesture; Kurtis could not help but frown.

"Can you hear me?" she said, touching a hand to the side of Lacina's face, "Are you okay?"

The man's eyes flickered open at her words; she repeated herself, and wondered whether the blast could have damaged his hearing.

"Yes," he rasped, after a few moments, "Yes, I can hear you." She smiled a little, in relief. Kurtis did not say anything. "W-what happened?"

Lara shook her head.

"I'm afraid your 'angels' attacked the station." She cast a look over her shoulder; Kurtis was hovering in the background. She could tell he was uncomfortable.

Lacina laid his head back, and closed his eyes for a moment, taking this in.

"Then why are you two still standing?"

She frowned.

"We were just lucky, I guess."

Kurtis put a hand to his mouth, and wiped away the blood.

"The word 'lucky' being open to debate here." He exchanged a look with Lara, who had a gash in her forehead, and blood and dirt smeared down the side of her face. "It wasn't us," he added, "If that's what you're thinking. Even you of all people should understand that by now - it wasn't us."

Lacina was quiet for a moment.

"Perhaps it was not you," he said, finally, "Perhaps I was wrong."

Kurtis grinned, if only a little.

"I hate to say it, but I told you so."

Lacina did not protest to this; perhaps he could not. After a moment he grew still, and once she had checked for a pulse, Lara slowly reached over and closed his eyes.

She stayed there for a while, balancing on her heels, as Kurtis wandered off to search amidst the rubble. It took her a moment to register the static of the radio.

Frowning, she reached down and detached it from Lacina's belt. It was still stuck on a busy channel, and she listened for a moment, hoping to decipher something, but the chatter was much too panicked for her to understand.

"Lara? Is everything okay?"

She nodded her head, absently.

"I found a radio. I think we can use it to trace the Nephilim."

She took it in her hands, and tapped her palm against the casing. Kurtis appeared beside her.

"We better get going," he said, "Someone is bound to find us here, and we don't need to take the blame for this as well, do we? The paperwork is destroyed, so no one will know we were here."

She smiled a little.

"I guess not." She stashed the radio in her pocket. "But we need to go and get our guns and my backpack from the evidence room." She frowned. "If they've survived, that is."

He shrugged, and handed her the keys he had stolen earlier.

"Go knock yourself out."

She scowled.

"And what are _you_ going to be doing in the meantime?"

"_I_ am going to be looking for my Chirugai."

And she watched him walk away, whilst the sprinklers continued to pour down and leave her standing there, freezing cold, with her hair matted to her forehead.

Somehow, she just knew that this was going to be another _extremely _bad day.

**XXX**

In every department across the city, on both sides of the Vltava, there was chaos as an urgent report came sliding out of the fax machine:

**Prague Central Station  
Chief Commissioner Charvat, Prague Police.**  
To all emergency departments.

_We have received word of an unidentified explosion at Hradčany Police Station. Casualty figures are unknown at this time, but damage to the area is widespread and radio contact cannot be established. Eyewitnesses have reported seeing fireballs in the sky. Burn units and engines should be deployed immediately._

_It is unconfirmed whether this incident is related to earlier attacks._

**XXX**

Most cells were empty, or else their occupants had long been dead; he could not stand the sight for long. It took him back to a place in his life he would much sooner forget.

When he reached the last cell in the row, he squatted down and leant a hand upon its bars. The sprinklers were still going above him; by this point he was getting completely drenched, but he didn't really care.

"Talk about your déjà vu…"

It had not taken him that long to find his Chirugai after all, and as he caught a glimpse of another side corridor, curiosity overcame his instincts, and he wandered off to investigate. Now the Chirugai was glowing in his hand, tugging even, urging him to go before the sirens were heard and they were caught out, but he couldn't turn to leave; he was too mesmerised by the sight before him.

It was not one of the guards, or even one of the inmates, as he had first suspected - it was the man in the orange straightjacket. And from the looks of it he was still alive, although at first glance that would not appear to be the case; he was so badly burnt that he resembled a corpse, if anything.

It had been almost a month since Kurtis had first encountered him, stumbling about the twisted skeleton of the facility's cafeteria. He was not a young man by any means, and there had been a haunted look in his eyes, a sense of helplessness and fear, which had prevented Kurtis from putting a bullet in his brain. He now sat huddled in the corner of his cell, still with his arms bound to his chest, still with that same vacant look, but he was unmoving, and his eyelids wavered, as though he were on the verge of a nightmarish sleep.

Kurtis dropped to his knees; his Chirugai hovering above him, spinning around and raining orange sparks before it suddenly died, and fell clattering at his feet.

He had never completely mastered the technique, and was prone to losing the thread of connection when he did. It allowed him to speak with the voice locked away in someone's mind, when that person was unable to speak for themselves. His father had once taken him into a mental hospital when he was six and used the people there as practice. Kurtis had heard some very disturbing things from many of the patients, and had refused to use that particular power again.

It was time, however, to break a habit of lifetime.

**XXX**

The evidence room was before her; the door still miraculously on its hinges was, however, twisted and melted by the heat of the blast, and the lock had been completely destroyed. Lara reached out a hand, and easily pushed it open.

She stopped in her tracks, with the keys hanging limply at her side.

Her face fell.

"So much for unlocking the evidence room…"

With a sigh, she placed the keys to one side, on the counter in the centre of the room, which had survived relatively unscathed in the blast; in fact, the entire room was reinforced in steel, and it struck her how easily such a precaution could have saved the rest of the station, not to mention a huge number of lives.

With a sigh, she gathered up their effects from where they were lying in a pile on the counter. A thought struck her as she strapped her holsters back onto her thighs; it was a vague wondering really, a flickering hope that perhaps could not yet be wholly extinguished.

The evidence lockers were coded by letter. Slowly, she approached a filing cabinet in the far corner. It was labeled in Czech, but fortunately she only needed to understand one word to guess at its contents:

_Strahov_.

Within the middle drawer she found a number of items in plastic sleeves that had obviously been pulled from the wreckage: spent gun cartridges, a set of keys and even a rather bloody wristwatch. But she paid them no heed, for there before her, slightly charred but otherwise intact, were the three Periapt Shards.

She smiled in relief.

**XXX**

•dances around a bonfire, cackling and urging on the flames• _Plot twists! How I love thee!_

_Um, yes. _•looks about shiftily• _I'm sorry for the wait again _•cougheightmonthscough•_ but writer's block just loves to torture me lately. But I am determined to get this fic finished if it kills me, and I already have most of the next chapter ready. And yes, if you're anything like me, then you will have to reread this entire story in order to remember its plot. And I recommend that you do so, since I have been through and changed a few details that were bugging me - not anything too earth shattering, but enough to take a second glance. _


	9. Ashes

Someone was pounding on the bathroom door, yelling obscenities. Kurtis simply gave a smirk, and turned on the faucet to drown out the noise.

They had been following the Nephilim for the better part of a week now, thanks to the radio they had salvaged from the station back in Prague. Now they were shut up in a bathroom somewhere in central Hungary, at one of those rest stops so tiny you had to ask the proprietor for the bathroom key. Said proprietor was not too happy at the moment, since Lara and Kurtis had hijacked the bathroom in order to wash up after driving throughout the night.

"Kurtis?"

"Yeah?"

"I think this has broken again."

He sighed.

"Give me that."

Lara was currently sitting upon the bathroom counter, idly fiddling with the buttons on the radio. A huge gash ran across her arm, right up to the elbow, but she was too busy trying to tune into the correct frequency to notice it.

Kurtis took the radio from her, and gestured to the sink.

"You better clean up your arm."

"It's only a scratch."

He raised an eyebrow.

"You fell off the motorbike, Lara."

"And only sustained a scratch…" She shrugged, and pushed herself off the counter. The sound of spray soon filled the air.

"What did you do to this thing?" said Kurtis, after a moment, "It was working just a second ago."

Lara rolled her eyes.

_Men._

As Kurtis gave up on the radio and began to reload his Boran X, she reached over and retrieved the Periapt Shards from her backpack.

She shook her head.

"I still can't believe I found these."

He smiled: "Well, they must be indestructible."

"But will they still work?"

He shrugged. "They killed the Proto easily enough."

"But the Proto was not a true Nephilim," she said, "We still don't know if they are going to work against the real thing."

Kurtis didn't give an answer to a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, she decided to change the subject:

"What do you think is going to happen now?" she ventured, "I mean, are people going to admit they have a real apocalypse on their hands or not?"

He laughed a little as he latched on his shoulder holster.

"If I've learnt anything, it's that human beings believe what they want to believe." He snapped the chamber of his gun closed. The pounding on the door renewed. "And some people never change."

**XXX**

They were running low on cash; they had been since they had left Slovakia, but she wasn't going to admit it yet. If only she hadn't lost her credit cards back in Paris; she could have had access to as much cash as they had needed, but her situation didn't exactly allow any dealings with the authorities, let alone the time to sit down and fill out the necessary paperwork.

They stopped at a café that morning; they were both starving, but more than anything else she was desperate to see the news, and check if there were any recent sightings of the Nephilim. Their radio had been on the fritz for the past few days.

They passed a junkie on their way through the parking lot; Kurtis took pity on the man, and scattered a handful of loose change at his feet. Inside they found a television, which Lara quickly commandeered and switched onto BBC World, much to the chagrin of the other patrons.

Not surprisingly, the channel was showing constant coverage of the recent events in Prague, and the subsequent attacks which had spread across Europe. One news anchor was trying to discern a pattern, but failing miserably.

Kurtis flagged down a waitress to order some coffee, whilst Lara kept her eyes fixed upon the television. Suddenly, the coverage switched back to the Prague attacks.

She flinched.

"What is it?"

She didn't answer; just gestured towards the screen. Kurtis looked up, and saw footage of the emergency services hauling a body bag out of the rubble on a stretcher. He caught the name 'Lacina' from amidst the chatter.

He was silent for a good few minutes, until the waitress arrived with their coffee, but even then, he still seemed quite detached. Obviously, the guy's death was affecting him, though Lara knew that he would never admit to the fact.

Once again, silence had descended; things were getting tenser between them by the day. Lara continued to watch until the channel switched to a commercial, and then ran a hand across her weary face.

"I just wish we knew where they were leading us," she said.

"I do." He was fiddling with the sugar pot as he said this, and acting so nonchalantly about it that she was sure she must have misheard him.

"Excuse me?"

Kurtis blinked, and looked up at her, repeating it slowly as though she were an unruly child: "_I know where the Nephilim are heading_."

With a scowl, she snatched the sugar away from him.

"And when exactly were you planning on telling me this?"

He shrugged, and went for his cigarettes instead.

"It slipped my mind. Besides, I wanted to keep track of the Nephilim as badly as you did. The last time we went running off, thinking we had a lead, we ended up in jail, remember? We couldn't risk losing them again."

She was floored.

"But how on Earth do you know where they are going?" she asked, "There's no pattern to their attacks at all."

He leaned forwards, as though he didn't want the other people in the café to hear what he was saying.

"Remember the Strahov prisoner we heard about back at the station?" She nodded. "I spoke to him."

"You mean he survived?"

"Yeah, but he didn't live much longer after I found him. The poor guy was burnt half to death."

He produced a rather crumpled cigarette packet, and frowned as he tipped it upside down, only to find that it was empty.

She rolled her eyes, and pushed the sugar back towards him. He started heaping it into his cup.

"So where are they leading us then?" she asked.

"Lebanon." He sipped at his now sugar-laden coffee. "The Strahov prisoner - he was a site manager in Lebanon. Some kind of archeological dig. That must be where the Nephilim are heading."

She frowned. "A dig? Are you sure? I've never heard of any ongoing excavations in Lebanon."

"Well, from the sounds of it they kept the whole thing pretty quiet," he said, "The dig's been going on for about two years now."

"Two years?" She set down her coffee. "Well, I _must_ have heard of it then."

He shrugged.

"Something to do with religious sensitivities, I'm guessing." Off her look, he shrugged, and added: "The dig unearthed that tablet you saw in the Strahov."

"The tablet with the prophecy?"

"The very same."

Once she had finished lambasting him again for not divulging this information sooner – by the act of pouring hot coffee down his trousers - she stopped, and leant her chin upon her hand in thought.

"That does make sense, actually," she said, stirring at her coffee, "I didn't find the time to make a sketch of the tablet, but I do remember that it strongly resembled the art of the Byzantine Empire, which ruled over that area at one time…" Realising that she was beginning to zone out into her own little world, she took a gulp of coffee, and added: "Whereabouts in Lebanon was this dig? Did he say?"

Kurtis shrugged - he was too busy toweling off his trousers to elaborate.

"I haven't a clue. I didn't have the time to ask him twenty questions, Lara."

She pointed her spoon at him.

"Well, you certainly took your time, anyways," she huffed, "I almost left the station without you."

"I was fetching my bike."

"Without bothering to tell me," she growled, "And then you came roaring up on the thing just as the police cars and fire engines were arriving. You're just lucky we didn't get arrested again."

"What can I say?" he said, smirking as he drunk his coffee, "I was never one for subtlety."

She rolled her eyes, and called over the waitress.

"Excuse me? Yes, my friend seems to have had an accident." She gestured towards Kurtis. "I don't suppose you have a spare set of trousers?"

Kurtis was staring bloody murder at her as the waitress shook her head and walked away in bemusement.

Lara raised her coffee cup again, with her own smirk.

**XXX**

_Yay! I can't believe I updated so quickly – I rock :D _

_Lots of talking in this chapter, but then again I missed just writing some simple Lara/Kurtis banter, and there was lots of exposition that I needed to get out of the way. It is now just over three years since I posted the first installment of this two-part story, and I finally feel like I am making some headway._


End file.
